"Let me go now, father. See, the morning dawn shines already through the window; so hath the loving mercy of my God come to me, who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. Farewell, father; let me go now. Away with this head in the clear early morning light, so that my feet be fixed for evermore upon the path to peace."
And so speaking, he seized M. Vitus by the hand, who was sobbing loudly, as well as most of the burghers, and the executioner with his assistants bearing the coffin were going to follow, when the old man, who had sunk down upon a bench, called back his son, though he had already gone out at the door, and prayed the executioner to let him stay one little while longer. For he remembered that his son had a welt upon his neck, and he must see whether it would interfere with the sword. Woe, woe! if he should have to strike twice or thrice before the head fell!
So the executioner removed the neck-cloth from the poor sinner (who, by the great mercy of God, was stronger than any of them), and having felt the welt, said—
"No; the welt was close up to the head, but he would take the neck in the middle, as indeed was his usual custom. His worship may make his mind quite easy; he would stake his life on it that the head would fall with the first blow. This was his one hundred and fiftieth, and he never yet had failed."
Then the unhappy criminal tied his cravat on again, took M. Vitus by the hand, and said—
"Farewell, my father; once more forgive me for all that I have done!"
After which he went out quickly, without waiting to hear a word more from his father, and the executioner followed him.
Meanwhile the afflicted father was sore troubled in mind. Three times he repeated the text—"Ye shall not respect persons in judgment, nor be afraid of the face of man, for the judgment is God's." Then he called upon God to forgive the Prince who, by taking away law and justice from the land, had obliged him to be the judge and condemner of his son. How the Lord dealt with the Prince we shall hear farther on. One while he sent mine host to look over the hedge, and tell him if the head were off yet. Then he would begin to pray that he might soon follow this poor son, who had never given him one moment of joy but through his death, and pass quickly after him through the vale of tears.
The son, however, is steadfast unto the end. For when they reached the churchyard, he stood still a while gazing on the heap of sand. Then he desired to be led to the spot where his grave was dug; and near this same grave there being a tombstone, on which was figured a man kneeling before a crucifix, he asked—
"Who was to share his grave bed here?"